“Baby, I love you”

That was the text I received at 1:40 a.m. My heart stopped for a bit. I felt the air leave my lungs as I gripped my phone tighter and tears stung my eyes. When my heart started beating again, it was at an unreasonable speed while the blood in my veins boiled.

2 years. 2 years, I had dated Logan. 2 years of total devotion to what my generation called a relationship and what I got was “Baby, I love you,” at 1:40 a.m?

I looked at my filthy apron, soaked with sweat from being in the kitchen all through the previous day until that very moment. My left eye was itchy but I could not touch it out of fear of getting pepper in it. I turned off the noisy blender with the tomatoes in it. I was supposed to make the stew at that time and that would've been the last thing I made that night right after boiling rice, making jollof rice, egusi and okra soup and, just to prove a point, baking a goddamned birthday cake.

“I don't have enough money to pay anyone to make the meals for the party,”

Logan had said and I quickly volunteered to do all the cooking. After all, I loved cooking so how hard could it be to cook for 20 guests?

Yet, while I slaved away, I got “Baby, I love you” at 1:40 a.m?

I chuckled, then laughed out loud. Everywhere was quiet, of course it would be. It was 1:40 a.m in the morning and people were sleeping or at least supposed to be sleeping, but my boyfriend, whom I spent all day and night cooking for without hearing from the entire 24 hours in a day, thought it was fine to text me “Baby, I love you” at 1:40 a.m!!!

Na, this can't be my life. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry but all I could do was look at the meals I had made in my kitchen. I walked to my fridge, took out the half empty bottle of wine and took a huge gulp straight from the bottle. No one could process that with a clear head. But did I have a clear head? Even without the alcohol, had I been acting like someone with a clear head or at least good eyesight or even good senses? Na, it's been cloudy in my head long before that night and the alcohol was innocent and definitely couldn't help me that night but I needed it.

I put the bottle up to my lips again and drank till it was empty. I dropped the empty bottle on the floor, turned off the gas cooker, got my car keys and walked out of the house.

“Baby, I love you"

at 1:40 a.m? I deserved better than that.

The road was almost empty as I drove in the cool night with my car windows down. I needed the cool breeze to blow against my face and remind me every minute that I was not dreaming. This was really the life I had chosen and put up with for 2 years. Was I that big a fool? Ah Eledumare!

People respect me o! They listen to me in the office. I make the best decisions and my boss always praises me for being such a good judge of character but see my life!

The almighty Avala, with her high heel stilettos and her well tailored dresses, was getting “Baby, I love you” at 1:40 a.m!!!

At that moment, I screamed. I had to.

I had to let it all out before I exploded behind the wheels. Thank God the streets were almost empty, because how do you explain a woman wearing a dirty apron over denim shorts and an ADIEU PAPA t-shirt, screaming in her car at almost 2 a.m. when Lagosians were sleeping?

At least this disgrace is mine alone to see and witness in secret, because what if my life were a movie? Wouldn’t I be the foolish girl that people shook their heads at and couldn’t stand any scene they came up in? Life truly no balance.

Logan's gateman must've been shocked to find out I was the one honking at the gate at that time but he was still half asleep and seemed too unbothered to alert his Oga. He just opened the gate and went back to his little house to sleep. I sat in the car for about a minute. The image of the text stuck in my mind. I could see it so clearly, even at that moment. “Baby, I love you.” Those words pierced my heart like a rough dagger but at that moment, I was still numb to the pain.

I got out of my car and quietly walked like a zombie to Logan's apartment. Thankfully, I had his spare key so I slipped into the house with little to no sound.
The apartment was quiet and smelled so nice, not like mine, which smelled of burnt jollof rice and pepper. When I got to his room door, I paused. I could feel the pain of the dagger now. My feelings were finally waking up and oh! It hurts.

I turned the nob, opened the door, and switched on the light.

They were sleeping so gently, so peacefully, in each other's arms, under the white duvet that I had gifted Logan. I stood there, the tears refusing to form, the pain coursing through my veins and spreading through every corner of my body. My knees felt weak and my feet felt stuck to the cold tiles. My heart shattered.

They say the third time is the charm, but what would you call the fourth time? The eye-opener?

I knew he was with someone. I mean, it was not the first time. Every time he cheated, he showered me with love right after. He would start telling me how much he loved me while buying me elaborate gifts. I would be there, smiling like an idiot and bragging about how much my boyfriend loved to spoil me, not knowing it was all out of guilt. It wasn’t until I started catching him that I realized I had been a fool for so long. That was the fourth time I had caught him in bed with another woman. Ah!, my life! What a shame.

I watched as he slept so calmly, lightly snoring while holding her in his arms. Her dark skin glowed. I must give it to Logan though; the girls were never ugly. He stuck to his type, even if it was just a one-time thing. But seeing him sleep so peacefully now while I had been slaving away for him made me ashamed of myself.

She was the first to wake up and she frantically woke Logan up as fear gripped her. It must have been the dirty apron or my rough cornrows. Maybe it was the spoon in the pocket of my apron but I definitely looked like something from a horror movie scene. Maybe I looked like the spirit of a scorned housewife out to get revenge on her cheating husband.

“Avala, Avala, it's not what you think,” Logan stammered.

The idiot was even using cliche lines at that critical moment. He was naked in bed with another woman but he still found a way to tell me it was not what I thought.
What could it be if not what I thought and saw? A vigil?

I laughed. I laughed out loud. I laughed for about a minute. I must have looked crazy. A woman in a dirty apron at past 2 a.m, watching her boyfriend in bed with another woman and doing nothing but laughing. But what could I have done? I had fought the first two girls I had caught him with. I fought him the third time and cried till I got hospitalized yet there we were again. I stopped laughing. I switched on my phone and blocked his number. I blocked him on every social media site at that very moment.

I realized life was like a game of dodgeball. It would keep hitting me with balls until I finally learned to dodge. I was done getting hit. I was even done with the stupid game. I took one final look at him and smirked. I was the fool there.

I left his spare key at the door when I left. I didn’t need it anymore anyway.

When I got home, I got in the shower and had a really hot, long bath. I had too much to wash away. By 4 a.m, I had cut a big slice of cake and had it with sweet red wine before going to bed. I deserved peace too.